


Amortentia

by Supernova12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Happy Ending, Jealous John, John is just paranoid, M/M, Mutual Pining, Potterlock, Quidditch, Sherlock doesn't actually have a gf, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernova12/pseuds/Supernova12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock didn’t do anything wrong." John thought bitterly as he mounted his broom and took off "I’ll just keep telling myself that. He just went out. Got a girlfriend. Forgot to mention it. I’m fine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so.. this is my first attempt at a fic and i'm honestly quite afraid.  
> If you think it's okay please leave comments with criticisms and opinions and I promise that if the fic is well received i'll have around 2 updates a week.  
> Thank you for reading!

John was not jealous. He didn’t know why exactly he kept assuring himself that he wasn’t and he wouldn’t admit to having feeling a bit… off for the last couple of days. But he was not jealous, he decided as he fiddled aggressively with his firebolt, a birthday gift from Sherlock, as he waited for Greg to finish changing into his red and golden robes before their Quidditch practice...most certainly not thinking about Sherlock. Not one bit.  
_It’s fine. I’m not jealous. Why would I be? Ridiculous. It’s fine…… I’m not jealous._

“John? Are you alright mate?” Greg asked, yawning, clearly not used to having morning practices yet, standing up and shaking John out of his cyclical mind hoop.

“Huh? Oh yeah! I’m fine. Fine.” John muttered, waving a hand dismissively.

“What did Sherlock do now huh?” Greg grinned as he reached for his Nimbus 2002.

John huffed a laugh and shook his head “Nothing Greg don’t worry about it. Come on let’s go practice” He motioned towards the pitch with a nod of his head and started walking.

Greg raised an eyebrow, knowing there was more to it by the worried look on John’s face, but let it drop and followed his Quidditch captain through the dark hallway leading to the Quidditch field where the rest of the team was chatting with some Gryffindor girls that had come to watch the practice. After all, getting the captain annoyed certainly wasn’t on his list of favorite things to do. John was the nicest person he knew when he was happy but when he got mad.. well Greg shuddered just thinking about it. He certainly did not envy Sherlock and whatever it was he had done to make John upset.

Greg jogged a couple of steps in front of his friend as soon as they reached the field and joined the rest of the team, blushing slightly as he spotted Molly Hooper in the crowd of fans they had gathered through the 2 years of not losing a single Quidditch game, thanks to Captain Watson. He was all set to at least try to talk to her when John commanded firmly that practice had begun in a tense, rather than his usual gentle, tone. The team, immediately sensing John’s mood, quickly arranged themselves in their brooms and bid goodbye to the girls as these backed away towards the stands where Sherlock usually sat, blue Ravenclaw scarf always wrapped up tightly around his pale neck during the fall and winter, to watch John play through his gray calculating eyes.

 _Sherlock didn’t do anything wrong._ John thought bitterly as he mounted his broom and adjusted his bit-too-long second-hand Quidditch robes to avoid tripping over them as he took off _I’ll just keep telling myself that. He just went out. Got a girlfriend. Forgot to mention it. I’m fine._

He shot up swiftly into the sky, momentarily forgetting everything around him as the air caressed his blond hair familiarly and he basked in the smooth feel of his Firebolts’ take-off. But as soon he blew the whistle and practice started he kept losing his focus, aware of Sherlock slim figure sitting in the stands with an open potions book in his lap, and Irene sitting at his side with her legs crossed while he whispered furiously towards his book clearly talking to her indirectly.

“Mike! You’re not supposed to hold the bat with both hands you’ll lose balance!” John shouted

“I.. wasn’t John” Mike replied bemusedly

“Oh...fine then… good. Keep going”. John shook his head and tried to focus on the game.  
He knew he should have been paying more attention, but he couldn’t. Irene was now looking intently at Sherlock and slowly closing the book in his hands to put it aside. Her slender body was turning completely towards him and he could see her talking _or whispering,_ John thought, directly into his ear.  
_Well isn’t she just…. No. Watson. Focus. The Slytherin vs Gryffindor practice is in two days and you’re here… well... Jealous of Irene... Why? Sherlock has every right to have a girlfriend. It’s not like you two are together. Or ever would have been. John sighed. It’s fine. It’s….Just… Fine._

…

 

It had been five days since John had seen Sherlock talking to Irene in a secluded corner in the library. Five days since he had most definitely not been trying to spy on them. He had left Sherlock alone at the table for only a couple of minutes, going to retrieve his potions paper from the dining hall where he had left it on the Gryffindor table as he had run off after his genius friend who was enthusiastically talking about an experiment in the forbidden forest a couple of hours before. Sherlock had offered to help with the homework (“John just give me the paper you suck at potions” “I do NOT”) and John had obviously reluctantly agreed... (“You really want to help?” “Yes, John. I offered did I not?” “THANK YOU. I’ll be right back just give me a minute”).  
But as he returned to the library there was Irene, approaching Sherlock in her usual flirty manner, hips swaying slowly as she strode gracefully towards him and took a seat next to him, _unnecessarily touching_ his shoulder John might’ve added.

At first, Sherlock had seemed bored, his usual manner when anyone other than John talked to him for too long and did not have an interesting case for him to investigate. This was something that although sometimes worried John, who did not want Sherlock to be alone in the classes they did not have together, it somewhat flattered him too.

John had quickly hidden behind the care of magical creatures bookshelf, curious as to what Irene wanted and what Sherlock would do in the face of this clearly romantic approach. He had wondered about his best friend’s sexuality more often than a supposedly straight guy should, but John didn’t like to dwell much upon that. Even if Sherlock were...not straight... John was sure he most certainly wouldn’t be interested in him. John was shorter than the average 16-year-old. He was, although well built, still soft and he hated to admit it… rather cuddly. Sherlock, on the other hand, was the very definition of beauty and grace. With his sharp cheekbones, rosebud of a mouth and those clear gray eyes that changed color with the sunlight and his endless legs and... _Woah John dangerous road here_.

The Gryffindor crouched behind one of the heaviest, thickest books and leaned forward to observe, narrowing his eyes in annoyance as Irene shamelessly flirted with Sherlock. She was tossing her hair back and batting her perfectly curled eyelashes, laughing at his cutting and harsh one worded responses and stroking his arm. John was not happy.  
Irene was, without a doubt, the hottest girl in the whole castle, with her dark long curls and her blood-red lips, but since Sherlock was not showing even the sign of interest in the conversation John was starting to feel better and was considering getting up from this ridiculous hiding spot and just tear Sherlock away from her and into the gardens around the lake where they would spend hours talking or just sitting together in comfortable silence. That was...until she whispered something in his ear, and he snapped his head towards her grey eyes wide, appraising and shocked and before John had blinked Irene was grinning triumphantly and they were walking out of the library together. John’s stomach instantly dropped in cold shock.

“John?” a small voice had asked behind him, startling him.  
John shot up, grabbing hurriedly the first book he had within reach and stammered quickly “Er.. yeah f-found it!” he laughed weakly turning to look at a confused Molly, clutching a book in her arms.  
“You were looking for ´The complete origin story of the Pygmy Puff?” she asked dubiously.  
“Oh uhh.. yeah! I.. was thinking about getting one this summer” John quickly responded, ignoring the blush quickly rising from his neck to his cheeks and thanking Merlin that Molly had not spotted him spying on Sherlock and Irene. People would talk. And the last thing he needed was Sherlock hearing about his friend spying on him.

“No way!” Molly squeaked oblivious, turning her massive book around to show him the cover. John leaned over to read it and instantly groaned internally ‘The complete origin story of the Pygmy Puff Volume II´.  
“I LOVE Pygmy Puffs! I had no idea you were an animal lover like me!” and that was how John found himself trapped for a whole hour in the library, sermoned about the proper care of Pygmy puffs and their habits by an excited Molly Hooper whilst trying to figure out any kind of excuse to leave and find out what Irene and Sherlock were up to.  
“And you should never ever put them in a cage, they can contract all sorts of diseases! But you should under no circumstances leave them alone outside either because their bright colors can attract predators, and trust me: once a Pygmy Puff starts running it won’t stop for even treats! I mean one time I had my little Bluebell and… John?”  
“What-? Oh er… yeah. I umm… Sorry Molly, I got a little distracted”  
“Yeah, I figured” Molly laughed “So tell me, John... How much more do I have to torture you before you tell me why you were spying on Sherlock hmm?”  
_….Shit._  
“What? I was not..” he tried to come up with a relatively convincing argument in his head but Molly’s knowing smile gave no room for his escape.  
He sighed “I just wanted to know what Irene was up to. Nothing else”.  
“Uhuh. Look, I was crushing on Sherlock for over two years. And in those two years I learned one thing and one thing only”  
“He can be a dickhead?”  
Molly laughed, “yeah, he can be. But no. I learned that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing… He wants you there. He- he feels the same way about you, John” And then she smiled sweetly and walked away before he could even begin to think about his protests.  
...

  
So that was what John was thinking about when five days later just after Quidditch practice he landed on the soft grass smoothly and looked over to his best friend… and looked. And the frankly quite obvious realization hit him like a truck. _Oh Merlin, Molly’s right...I’m in love with him_.,


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well class today we’re going to observe the effects of a very common but highly potent potion. can anyone tell me what potion created powerful effects on infatuation or obsession on the drinker?”  
> “Amortentia” answered Sherlock instantly, without taking his eyes off John.

Later that day, before afternoon lessons, Sherlock sat in front of John in the Gryffindor common room in his usual black leather chair and John in his squashy red velvet in front of the fire. Sherlock was in a full rant, telling his best friend all about his latest results with his experiments in the forbidden forest on the correlation between the density and lengths of unicorn hair compared to the power for wand cores. Spending time together was and had always been easy. And John, as always, listened attentively to his friend's rants while Sherlock secretly basked in the fact that John actually cared and was interested in whatever he had to say...

 

Sherlock had realized he was in love with John during a care of magical creatures lesson (of all places), a lesson Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shared for their third year.  Everyone’s favorite professor, Hagrid, had been demonstrating the many ways of approaching and treating a hippogriff, as was customary for a first lesson ever since he had done that with that Potter boy everyone talked about but Sherlock always seemed to delete. (“But it’s Harry freaking Potter!” John would always say. “You don’t understand. He’s a legend to us all! Every son and daughter grew up hearing about you-know-who and-” “I do not know who. Speak properly, John. Stop being tiresome” “You...you don’t know wh-” and the conversation would just go in circles after that). Hagrid now, however, opted for smaller less dangerous hippogriffs as for the students to be in less danger _dull_ , but he nevertheless had the mothers of the baby hippogriff’s close by.

Some kids had snuck off to the back towards one of the smallest baby hippogriff and were attempting to tear off its barely forming silver feathers. John had immediately shot up and run across the field to go in defense of the harmless baby animal, stepping up in front of the kids. A single glare from a steaming John had been enough for the kids to apologize and scatter away. John had taken the small fluffy animal in his arms and brought him back to its enraged mother who Hagrid was trying desperately to tame. The fearless look in John’s eye as he approached the mother with the happy squawking baby in his arms had taken Sherlock’s breath away and he watched, heart pounding, as the elder hippogriff calmed, took in John’s approaching figure, accepted the stolen baby and bowed so low its beak touched the floor in reverence to one brave John Watson.

Sherlock still became lightheaded when he remembered the brilliant smile that John had shot in his direction, followed by a small wink and Sherlock was still surprised he hadn’t needed to go to the hospital wing from a heart attack.

John didn’t know about the crush, however, as Sherlock had done his best during the 3 years that had passed since that day to stop John from noticing his feelings. He was determined to not ruin the friendship they had formed. 

…

 

Sherlock finished telling John about his experiment and John, brilliant as he was, asked all the right questions and smiled and laughed at all the appropriate moments.

“So you’re telling me… there are 200 different types of unicorn hair but only 3 are good for wand power?”

“Precisely John. Of course, to deem which of these is better I would have to gather all the students with unicorn hair cores and have them duel but I rather think that would regretfully be deemed as unethical. Not to mention annoyingly imprecise. All the students are absolutely atrocious at dueling.”

John laughed, shaking his head and looking at Sherlock fondly.

 

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat, as it usually did when John looked at him like that. He looked down at his book to hide his blush and hoped John would think it was merely a result from the heat of the fire. _Don’t look at him. He’ll know. Keep looking down. Caring is not an advantage._

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly, the tone of the conversation going from casual to oddly intimate and charged in a second.

Sherlock looked up and met John’s eyes. “Yes, John?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out with Irene?” John asked, eyes inexplicably sad and tense.

“Irene? What do y-”

“SHERLOCK! JOHN! We have to run! Potions starts in 2 minutes and you know Slughorn hates it when we’re late.” Mike cried running towards them. He stopped and looked between the two teenagers, instantly sensing the mood of the conversation “Oh. Uhh.. I… I’ll just go then yeah?”

“It’s fine Mike. We’ll come with you” John stood and smiled over to Sherlock but it looked forced and too careful.

 

_What is the meaning of that smile? I have never seen it before. Why does he think I am dating Irene? Why does he look bothered by the idea that i might be? Not enough data. Possibility that he likes Irene under 70 percent judging by the lack of pupil dilation in her presence. Maybe I have not been paying enough attention. He’s not jealous, surely. At least not of her. But sadness as a reaction? How did John come to the conclusion? NOT ENOUGH DATA._

Sherlock tried to deduce John’s thinking by his posture and facial expression as was the customary process but found nothing. John had a careful, closed expression; revealing nothing and Sherlock’s stomach slowly sunk with confusion.

 

They walked into class together, Sherlock giving John suspicious glances every couple of minutes trying to figure out what he was thinking, what their whole previous conversation had been about.

He’d felt John being tense over the last couple of days. To be precise since the day John had left to retrieve his homework and left Sherlock in the library. Perhaps John was mad that Sherlock had left? But he had helped him the following day… _Closer observation, measuring of his pulse in proximity to Irene and information on his gathering of data needed_ concluded Sherlock.

…

 

Sherlock had seen Irene instantly as she was approaching him with a predatory glance in the library. He scanned her with a quick glance up her body: Freshly applied lipstick, top three shirt buttons opened, hair loose, skirt fixed up for maximum amount of skin exposed... lack of pupil dilation and normal steady pulse. Conclusion: Not a romantic approach, so a query or favour needed. Disguise: For pretense or temptation. Probability: Pretence 79% temptation 21%.

“Hello, Mr Holmes. You look awfully sexy today” Irene purred as she took a seat next to him

“Reading” Sherlock huffed, uninterested

“Smart is the new sexy,” she said slowly, drawing out every syllable and rolling it in her tongue

“Hmm”

“You’re not going to ask me to dinner?” She pursed her lips in mock annoyance

“You’re gay”.

She laughed merrily, impressed but not surprised, caressing his arm

“That I am Sherlock. That I am. What gave me away? But I do have a reason to visit darling. I came for your help with a problem.”

“Your disguise is a self-portrait. Trying too hard. No physical response to any male you flirt with. Usually looking for trouble or favors. Blackmail. I’m not interested in helping. Bye now.”

She smiled menacingly and leaned as close as she could “Very good. And I'm not blackmailing Sherly… just looking for protection. Anyway, you'll help me”. She concluded

“Why?” 

“I daresay I could tell Mr Watson about your incessant pining over him. OR I figure Anderson and Sally would find it awfully interesting”

Sherlock had never moved so fast in his life. He turned to look at her, afraid, and .. a little impressed he had to admit. Sherlock had been careful. The only person who had ever known about his…. _affections_ was Mycroft and he had taken more than 20 seconds, a very slow pace for the annoyingly big brain his brother had.

“Outside the library. Now” he hissed as Irene stood gracefully. She grinned from ear to ear, and followed him out.

 

...

 

They entered the class in silence and took their usual seats at the back of the class, John pointedly not looking at Sherlock.

 _Slightly flushed, uneven pulse, avoiding gaze, fidgeting hands. Embarrassed? Regretful? Eyes not visible from this angle_.  

 

“Class!” Professor Slughorn called attention, “Professor Flitwick has unfortunately fallen sick and so the sixth year Slytherin’s will be joining our class until further notice. Isn’t that great?” Slughorn boomed, clearly oblivious to the matching grimaces the Ravenclaw’s and Gryffindors wore as they looked upon the malicious faces of Anderson and Sally.

 

“Aww, the freak and his pet are here! Isn’t that cute?” Sally hissed loudly in their direction

John instantly tensed as he usually did when Sherlock was referred to anything other than his name in an unfriendly manner. He glared towards Sally but she took no notice of him, clearly finding her nails more engaging than John’s protectiveness over Sherlock.

 

“Well, class today we’re going to observe the effects of a very common but highly potent potion. Can anyone tell me what potion created powerful effects on infatuation or obsession on the drinker?”

“Amortentia” answered Sherlock instantly, without taking his eyes off John.

“Very good Mr. Holmes, 5 points to Ravenclaw! Perhaps you would like to talk about its immediate stimulus effects for a further 10 points?”

“Smell. To be accurate a different smell for everyone who comes into contact with it. The receptor will perceive the potion’s smell as whatever they find most attractive, whether they are aware of it or not.” Sherlock answered clearly uninterested in the points but unable to stop the flow of knowledge passing through his cupid bow lips.

“Excellent! Simply marvelous!” Slughorn exclaimed  “Mr. Holmes come to the front of the class to demonstrate if you please” He motioned towards him.

 

“Holmes?! He won’t smell a thing! That freak doesn’t have a heart! He can't feel attraction or love!!” Anderson Whispered not so quietly into Sally’s ear.

“I know! He’ll probably smell blood” She said loudly laughing

“Better than Anderson’s hair grease!” John shouted, anger rising as Slughorn took ten points away from Slytherin, scandalized by the behavior of the Slytherins.

“Mr.Holmes, could you come to the front of the class?” He smiled encouraging, clearly purposely ignoring John’s insults and pretending he’d heard nothing.

John looked towards Sherlock and smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. It’s just smelling a potion”

Sherlock huffed and stood gingerly from his seat. He walked slowly, anxiously towards the front of the class, giving Anderson and his girlfriend equally disgusted glares and stopped in front of the boiling copper cauldron.  He looked at it as if it might bite him if he weren’t careful until Slughorn asked excitedly what he could smell.

Sherlock shot him an annoyed glance, he knew exactly what it would smell like. But he decided to humor them and slightly bent forwards towards the pearly white steam coming from the cauldron. He inhaled deeply and instantly became wide eyed and flushed.

“So Mr.Holmes what can you smell?” Slughorn asked again

“Uh... I” Sherlock stumbled over words for the first time in his life and he could see John worried, yet intrigued, leaning closer towards Sherlock from his seat.

Sally and Anderson were snickering and the rest of the class held a deadly quiet tension, all eagerly awaiting for at least a small glimpse into the mysteriousness that was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock tried to stop the words from sputtering out but the potion was making him dizzy, the enchanting and wonderful smells kept drawing him in for another whiff. He couldn’t breathe clean air, couldn’t think straight. All he could think of was… _John_

_JohnJohnJohnJohn_

Sherlock took another lungful from the delicious swiveling steam and began quietly,

“Tea..butterbeer... summer...broomstick wood... grass.. it's..J-”

And then the world swirled around and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you caught the A very potter musical reference we can now be best friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He must be really in love” Mike whispered just as John crossed the frame of the wooden door.  
> That stopped him in his tracks. He instantly thought of Irene and how Sherlock must have been overwhelmed by her smell coming from the potion. "Yeah…" Thought John "He must be."

 

Sherlock had a far away glazed look in his eyes. He looked absolutely hypnotized and enchanted by whatever he had smelt in that potion and John was entranced by the vulnerable look in Sherlock’s usually carefully reserved expression. His pink curved lips were slightly parted and he for a moment, looked straight at John before he began talking.

“Tea..” He said “Butterbeer...summer...broomstick wood...grass… it’s.. J-”

And then Sherlock’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

“SHERLOCK!” John cried, scrambling out of his seat and running across the classroom as fast as he could to the limp unmoving figure of Sherlock Holmes.

The class was dead silent. All completely shocked by the powerful and potent effect the smell of the potion had had on the Ravenclaw. Even Sally stood transfixed staring open mouthed as John knelt beside his friend.

Slughorn was completely paralyzed as John leaned in close to check for Sherlock’s soft and steady breathing and took his pulse by the wrist.

 

“I-I had no idea this w-would... “ Slughorn stammered. John shot him an angry glare as he swung Sherlock’s left arm across his shoulders and half carried him towards the exit to take him to the hospital wing.

 

“He must be really in love” Mike whispered just as John crossed the frame of the wooden door.

That stopped him in his tracks. He instantly thought of Irene and how Sherlock must have been overwhelmed by her smell coming from the potion. _Yeah… he must be_. He thought sadly, wondering how Irene connected with broomstick wood and summer if she couldn’t even play Quidditch and, as far as John knew she and Sherlock had never spent time together during the summer. Or had they?. Had Sherlock been hiding this relationship for longer than 5 days? Had he been hiding it for months? ...Years??

 

Why hadn’t Sherlock told him? Did he think John would be judgmental? Sure… Irene was definitely not the top choice of trustworthy girls and Sherlock knew that so maybe he just thought John would disapprove… or maybe… maybe Sherlock had noticed John’s feelings for him before even John had. Molly had done it. So Sherlock had obviously noticed before. Probably years ago. _Oh no… he didn’t want to hurt my feelings so he hid his relationship from me because he knew I would be jealous._ John mentally struck himself _I’m such an idiot. So pathetically in love since Merlin knows when and he knows it! He knew all along…_

 

The halls of the school were completely empty and eerily quiet as John reminisced, with the exception of the faint rustle of autumn leaves being thrown into the drain pipes to block them by a sniggering Peeves.

 

John closed his eyes and sighed. He adjusted Sherlock’s weight on his shoulders so he wouldn’t be completely dragged on the floor ( _Why on earth does he have to be so bloody_ _tall?_ ) as he walked him as fast as he could to the hospital wing. The weight of Sherlock’s body on his shoulder was oddly comforting and it suddenly brought back fond (but momentarily unwanted) memories of the day they first met properly and consequently the day they became friends.

 

…

 

They had met during their second school year. John had, of course, seen Sherlock since their first year when he had been called for sorting. He had stepped up the stage and announced loudly he would be in Ravenclaw without even putting the hat on, to which McGonagall had started to protest but the hat had silenced her immediately by saying “He’s right”, a shrug apparent in his tone of voice.

John had laughed along with a couple of other students but had afterwards not been overly eager to approach Sherlock after seeing a girl crying after the Ravenclaw had deduced her parents were getting a divorce in the following week. Naturally, John had been impressed by the stranger’s strange powers of knowledge when a letter had arrived saying that the girl's parents were, in fact, separating but he was hesitant to meet the strange boy, afraid of what he might see in John.

A year later they properly met during the first Herbology class. John had seen in his schedule that instead of Hufflepuff this year he’d be sharing Herbology, Charms, and Potions with the Ravenclaws with dread, not a feeling he was alone in, however. “Oh boy. Looks like we have Holmes this year” Greg had muttered sadly. 

“Oh come on. He can’t be that bad… can he?” John had asked curiously.

“Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant boy there’s no doubting that…. I just hope he will someday be a good one” Greg had shrugged. 

They’d made their way to the class and as fate had had it, John was to be sitting directly in front of the younger Holmes boy, who incidentally looked nothing like the elder Holmes, a chubby and big nosed 5th year that had the reputation of having the habit of stealing all the leftover cakes from the school’s kitchen.

To John's surprise he had not been intimidated, but instead mesmerized by the dark haired boys’ strange features and sharp eyes. Were they blue? Green? Gray? He had no clue but he wanted, nay, needed to find out.

Sherlock, in turn, had appraised John’s figure for a second before asking “So... Auror, Quidditch player or Healer?” and had proceeded to make John dizzy with an array of perfectly calculated observations and deductions. 

“Class!” Mr Longbottom had called for attention and John had been forced to tear his eyes away from Sherlock, not missing a small surprised smile he had given John when the latter had pronounced his deductions as amazing and brilliant.

“Today we’re going to be working with mandrakes. Yes, I know you completed this lesson last year but since most of you failed to achieve high scores in this basic Herbology section I decided to review it just in case.” Mr. Longbottom had smiled at his students and instructed the correct way to put on earmuffs so they could begin and he could assess their method of extracting one Mandrake from a pot and replacing it in another.

 “I wonder if the effects of such a small Mandrake’s cry really do cause some sort of negative physiological response” Sherlock had wondered out loud and before John could voice his warning they were both instructed to put on their earmuffs. And, as soon as the whole class had begun tearing out mandrakes, Sherlock had snuck a slim finger in between his ear and its covering, allowing some of the shrilling noise inside. The last thing John had seen was Sherlock’s shocked and disturbed expression before he had promptly fallen to the ground in a flurry of limbs.

The next thing he knew, he had been carrying a half-conscious complaining second year Ravenclaw to the hospital wing part-concerned and part-amused as the poor boy mumbled deductions about John’s shoes. They had been inseparable since.

…..

 

When John arrived at the hospital wing Sherlock was all but snatched from his arms by a huffing Madam Pomfrey.

“What happened to him?” She demanded.

Seeing Sherlock at the hospital wing was not exactly an uncommon occurrence (he showed up at least once a week for some sort of experiment related wound followed closely by an annoyed and huffing John), but by the look of John’s face Madam Pomfrey knew this was not some sort of silly accident with Poly juice potion.

“He fainted in potions class? He was ..er..inhaling quite a lot of Amortentia...” John said looking with concern upon his friend being set down carefully into one of the beds and inspected by the old but still admirably strong healer.

“He fainted smelling Amortentia? That’s rather uncommon...How close was he?”

“Not that close I guess… he was just leaning towards it” John answered

“Hmm”. the soft sound made both of their heads turn sharply.

“John” Sherlock whispered as if finishing an unspoken sentence.

 “I’m right here mate. Don’t worry, you’re okay. you just passed out” he smiled as Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open delicately and looked completely and utterly confused. A rare look to catch in Sherlock’s expression. He liked when Sherlock looked like this, unreserved and soft.  

Madam Pomfrey, the smart woman, scattered away sensing the change of the tone in John’s voice when he spoke to Sherlock’s vulnerable figure.

“Passed out? Why? Unicorn hair has no properties that could become poisonous to the human-” 

“No Sherlock you passed out in potions smelling the.. Amortentia” John said a little too tensely

Sherlock flushed instantly, remembering the intoxicating and overwhelming smell of John all around him.

“Oh... right,” he cleared his throat and looked away avoiding John’s narrowing gaze. The blonde sat next to Sherlock on the white soft duvet of the bed, carefully avoiding to sit on any of Sherlock’s long slim limbs and opened his mouth to yet again ask why Sherlock had not told John he had a girlfriend or to at least assure him that he would not stand in their way and that he shouldn’t feel bad for John’s pathetic pining, he wasn’t sure which he was going to say yet.

Before he could even get a single word out, however, Sherlock shifted his eyes towards him quickly and said “It’s not Irene, John. I’m not dating Irene”

“How did you-? Nevermind. What do you mean it’s not her? I’ve seen you around her all the time lately”

“Well... I have been.. uh…” He swallowed and looked away “I actually feel a lot better now John we should get going” Sherlock spluttered, quickly jumping to his feet and half-running towards the exit, not looking back or giving any sign of intending for the Gryffindor to catch up with him, something he usually did whenever he ran off to an experiment or case.

  
In a matter of seconds, John was left alone sitting on the side of an empty bed, looking towards the space Sherlock had left behind him, feeling empty and immensely unhappy with the world.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t take long to spot them talking in the corner of a hallway. All John had to do was hide behind the people walking the other way towards the Great hall and duck behind the closest statue where the hallways met at a cross section. He was a safe distance away so that if anything happened he could just quickly turn to the corridor at his right and pretend he was never there but close enough to make out what they were saying.

The next couple of days could only be described as awkward. Although Sherlock didn’t exactly avoid John when he saw him approaching he wasn’t his usual talkative self and would remain relatively silent. He kept on his meetings with Irene, much to John’s despair. But he was careful not to do so whenever the Gryffindor was around, but John knew.

How could he not when Sherlock was suddenly always absent during the Quidditch practice sessions. Something he had never done before in the time they had been friends, and especially not if the captain had an important match (like against Slytherin) coming up.  

John stayed off the topic in his friend's presence though, having learned his lesson and not wanting to push Sherlock away. After all, if his friendship was all he was ever going to get he was going to make the best of it. Things always seemed to relax and return to normal whenever John asked about Sherlock's progress with experiments or if he asked him to deduce him the lives of the rest of the students in year 6. (Apparently, Sarah had quite a crush on Mike Stamford). But as soon as the rapid flow of information was squeezed out of Sherlock the tension between them would arise again.   

Finally, the day of the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor came and John was not even thinking about the game as he went down for breakfast as instead of seeing Sherlock sitting with an open book on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table next to where John usually sat, (He’d refused to sit with the Ravenclaws because they were “Obviously wrongly sorted John! None of those idiots have a superior level of intelligence. Just yesterday I saw Janine take two whole minutes to solve the riddle, John! TWO minutes!” he looked positively astonished) he saw empty space. 

John scoured the Great hall for his friend’s messy curly head of hair but didn’t spot him in any of the tables. Finally, however, he saw his retreating figure walking towards the door accompanied by… “Irene” John hissed quietly.

 “Hey, John! Why aren’t you sitting? Why are you shaking?” Mike suddenly looked concerned. “Is this about the match? Cause I’m pretty sure we can take ‘em! You better have some breakfast though the match is in like 20 minutes… John?” Mike raised an eyebrow noticing John was staring at empty space in the Great hall door.

“It’s all fine Mike I’ll meet you there.” John smiled looking back at Mike “Tell the team to go change. I’ll uhh… be right there.” and then he ran out of the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. He was completely decided upon finding out what Sherlock and Irene were doing once and for all.

It didn’t take long to spot them talking in the corner of a hallway. All John had to do was hide behind the people walking the other way towards the Great hall and duck behind the closest statue where the hallways met at a cross section. He was a safe distance away so that if anything happened he could just quickly turn to the corridor at his right and pretend he was never there but close enough to make out what they were saying.

Luckily Sherlock and Irene had not cast a Muffliato spell on them and if John leaned slightly forward he could hear quite clearly that they were having a heated argument in hissed whispers.

“For Merlin’s sake, Sherlock stop acting like a kicked puppy! Just stop whining and do it” Irene spat at him. 

“I just can’t Irene. I can’t do it.” He heard Sherlock whisper sadly. “And I have never once acted like an animal of any sort” He hissed frowning.

 “Why not? Why can’t you?” She demanded, ignoring Sherlock’s comeback.

 Sherlock tangled his fingers in his dark curls and pulled in frustration  “Because I can’t do it okay?  And you can’t do it either. You swore if I helped you retrieve your blackmail pictures-”

“They’re for protection, not blackmail” She snarled angrily

“Whatever. I got them back for you from that Moran guy did I not? And you swore you would not tell him. And I most certainly won’t. So case closed” He sounded agonized, on the verge of a breakdown and it took all John had not to run and embrace him, demand what was wrong and how he could fix it.

Sherlock tried to walk away but Irene snatched his arm roughly and pulled him back with a firm tug.

 “But Sherlock! WHY not? You’re obviously suffer-”

 “BECAUSE JOHN DOESN’T LOVE ME!” Sherlock exclaimed throwing his arms in the air. He looked around but no one had done anything more than spare him a sideways glance. Sherlock sighed. “He doesn’t love me. And he’s my best friend. If I told him how I feel- How I’ve always felt and he didn’t feel the same…he’d leave me. I’d be all alone again”.

John had heard enough, he felt like his whole mind blanked instantly. Heart pounding and head spinning he slowly stood up to walk over to Sherlock but when he turned around he and Irene were gone and he was standing alone in the corridor.

_Sherlock loves me….Sherlock… loves me. Me. Ordinary, boring John Watson._

 He couldn’t breathe. All this time John had been jealous of Irene when nothing had been going on between them and then he had basically harassed Sherlock into telling him why he had been talking to Irene when she was only trying to help him. _I’m the biggest idiot in the world._

John straightened up and tried to clear his head of all the overwhelming emotions he was having. He had to find Sherlock. Now.

 Where could he be? Library? No… He was probably still with Irene and she never frequented the library. Quidditch field? _QUIDDITCH! Oh, bollocks! I have the game._

John grimaced, seriously considering ditching the gamer to go looking for Sherlock and tell him that he felt the same. that he had no reason to worry about John’s reaction because he had always felt the same. Even when he did not realize it Sherlock had always been a priority and like Molly had said.. wherever he was and whatever he was doing he would always rather be with Sherlock. Something his past girlfriends or dates had learned the hard way when Sherlock sent John Patronuses at all hours demanding his company whenever he was on dates. It all just seemed painfully obvious to John now why Sherlock had ONLY sent him Patronuses whilst on dates. The small little white glowing Hedgehog running in mid-flight gracefully around only him, never around Mary or Jeannette.. or was her name Amy? Not important.

  
John took a deep breath to settle himself before the game and started running towards the Gryffindor locker room, making his mind up to find Sherlock directly afterward and telling that bastard he loved him too.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to go.” Sherlock told Irene. “I have… something to do”  
> “Fine. But you come back here for the game. I actually secretly hate these things. Nothing interesting EVER happens.” She sighed

“...I’d be alone again” finished Sherlock, glaring at Irene who only sighed dramatically and looked at him appraisingly.

“I still think I’m right. But come on, the Quidditch match starts in 5 minutes, and I’m doing the voiceover because last time Anderson did it SOMEBODY jinxed him” she looked at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow “and Ii’m sure you don’t want to miss the game anyway” she winked.

Sherlock smiled and walked alongside her towards the Quidditch field. “Not my fault Anderson’s an idiot” he grinned.

He accompanied Irene to the small booth for the commentator and sat down next to her to wait for the game to start, ignoring the fact that he was technically sitting in the Slytherin booth a couple of rows in front of Anderson and Sally who were talking loudly about the inefficiency of the Gryffindor team to anyone who would listen. But suddenly he didn’t feel at ease, like he belonged, like he usually did at John’s games (the only Quidditch matches he would bother attending. If he attended any others he was dragged by John and he deleted them later anyway).

Things had been…. tense between the two of them since the amortentia disaster and Sherlock felt like John was drawing back and away from him. Or like he was doing that to John. He wasn’t sure. Sherlock hated not knowing. Not knowing what John thought about him anymore, and he hated himself for not being brave enough to tell him what he was really doing with Irene.

He would… but Sherlock just couldn’t figure out how to just tell John he had been helping Irene retrieve some compromising photographs of her and Mary (incidentally John’s ex-girlfriend) from the Slytherin Sebastian Moran (who had taken them from Irene’s bag to get back at her for stealing his own...sensitive photographs with that other kid Jim Mori-something) without John asking why he was helping her so willingly. As usually there was a case or some sort of experiment behind Sherlock's reason for help, with the exception of when the one in need of help was John. And Sherlock knew that under the pressure of those damn blue eyes John had he would break and tell him the truth. That he helped Irene to stop her telling him Sherlock was being affected by… Sentiment.

_“Don’t get involved Sherlock” That’s what Mycroft usually says. Ha! If it was THAT easy brother dear I never would have ended up here….. I have to talk to John. Make sure we’re okay._

“I have to go,” Sherlock told Irene. “I have… something to do”

“Fine. But you come back here for the game. I actually secretly hate these things. Nothing interesting EVER happens.” She sighed

Sherlock stood from the benches and made his way out of the Slytherin booth, taking the opportunity to silently cast a confundus charm on Anderson so he would accidentally punch Sally in the face. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!” He heard her screech as he practically skipped merrily away from the crowd.

The Ravenclaw walked down the narrow hall from the field, where all the Gryffindor team was gathered without John in sight and towards the Gryffindor locker room feeling slightly anxious about seeing his friend. He peered into the locker room through the small crack in the door that shed a single strand of yellow light into the dark corridor. 

John was sitting on the closest bench to the door softly smiling to himself, and putting on his boots with his right hand and holding his broom up with his left. His firebolt, Sherlock mentally noted, was in perfect conditions. Showing how much John loved it and cared for it. Sherlock knew John’s family didn’t have much money, which was why he had second hand school and Quidditch robes. He remembered seeing John dreamily lust over the model outside the broom shop at Hogsmeade and as soon as John had retreated to his dormitory that night Sherlock had snuck out of school and went to buy it for his next birthday.

John had been absolutely ecstatic about the broom and had hugged Sherlock for at least 5 minutes before he had had to push him away and adjust his school robes before John noticed that Sherlock was….physically responding, to put it delicately.

Sherlock opened the door to the locker slightly.

“Hi,” he whispered, his voice coming out much higher and softer than he had expected, causing his cheeks to color slightly and to quickly clear his throat.

John snapped his head towards the door, a deep shade of scarlet.   _Odd behavior for John._

“Oh uh... hey Sherlock!” He grinned nervously.

_Nervously?_

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and looked at him carefully but finding none of the tension he had seen in his friends shoulders and carefully controlled expressions from the past two days. John looked happy. Nervous but happy. _He’s probably just nervous about the game._ Sherlock noted. _I should ask anyway_.

“Are you alright John?”

John smiled softly, his eyes sparkling with fondness. “Yeah… I am.” He stood slowly from the bench and walked over to Sherlock and stopped directly in front of him, a little closer than he usually did and stared calmly into the Ravenclaw's eyes, a pink blush unwavering from his soft cheeks.

 Sherlock was breathless. He suddenly couldn’t remember who he was, let alone where and what he had been planning on telling John. He slowly and willingly drowned in the deep blue of John’s soft eyes and forgot to hide the surprise and affection from his own expression, suddenly shifting his eyes quickly from John’s eyes to his lips and back.

“John?” it came out as barely a rush of breath.

 The moment drew on slowly as John’s small smile grew into a proper one. “Sherlock I-”

“WATSON GET OUT HERE! GAME’S ABOUT TO START!” Greg’s voice boomed from the other side of the door completely startling both teens and making them jump apart in less than a second.

John’s soft expression disappeared and he looked thoroughly annoyed “I’M THE CAPTAIN AND I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE GREG!” He answered just as loudly.

He then turned towards his friend again but the fragile moment they had had shattered, although it lingered in the background, a soft promise of later.

“You.. should probably get out there” Sherlock smiled. “And..” he hesitated for a second “Be careful” he finished. _Yes that was good “Be careful”... Doesn’t sound too desperate._

But John seemed unfazed. “Yeah. I will be”

“I mean it” Sherlock insisted.

John laughed “Jesus you fall off a broom ONE time”

“Yes, you nevertheless spent an entire week at the hospital wing.” He shot back, raising an eyebrow.

John rolled his eyes dramatically “Yeah, but I woke up after the fourth day didn’t I?”

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond stubbornly but John was grinning at him, every bitter moment in the last few days vanishing instantly and just like that… things were back to the way they always were. _Well.. perhaps not exactly the same_ thought Sherlock with a smile.

“So… see you later then?” John asked quietly

“Of course John” Sherlock answered just as softly, preserving their small moment.

 John smiled, blushing furiously and walked out of the locker room followed closely by Sherlock who turned and headed back to the Slytherin booth to join Irene and watch the game.

The Gryffindor watched him walk away, smiling softly to himself, the sneering of the Slytherin team seeming muted and far away. He looked back towards his team and caught Greg’s eye, who smiled and motioned with his head towards Sherlock’s retreating figure and looked back to his Captain, smiling knowingly. “You guys…. got something going on?”.

John, impossibly, blushed an even deeper shade of red and shoved Greg with his left shoulder lightly. “Yeah… I think so” he smiled.

“That took you quite a while mate” Greg grinned. John rolled his eyes and they both took off to the sound of the whistle blowing, signaling the start of the match.

 

..

They won.

Ten fast minutes in, the Gryffindor team had scored 4 times, and Slytherin none, with the practiced and mastered tactics John taught them during the endless early morning practices. And the captain himself was zooming like a flash to the ground where he extended a hand and caught the glowing snitch with a skilled snatch.

“JOHN WATSON HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!” Irene’s voice resounded

John grinned as the Gryffindor team all rushed towards him and surrounded him in an inescapable and overly enthusiastic hug. The captain laughed, the euphoria of winning to Slytherin effortlessly meant he would be in the final match against Ravenclaw. But above all..

.. _Sherlock_.

John turned his head towards the Slytherin booth where he had seen his friend sit beside the commentator booth.

There he was; cheeks tinged with a soft blush with the cold fall air, or excitement? John couldn’t tell, but his dark curls were flying everywhere in the morning wind and he was looking directly into John’s eyes, grinning and cheering in contrast to the sulking Slytherin’s around him.

John’s breath rushed out as he took in the beautiful image of his best friend. Of his beaming proud smile and the sparkling happiness in his eyes.

 

And quite suddenly John couldn’t help himself any longer. He caught Greg’s happy, understanding eyes and grinned. He then politely but firmly pulled himself away from the team’s embrace and flew upwards into the air, red coat fluttering around his ankles. He zoomed in as fast as he could towards the Slytherin booth, air rushing past and stopped before Sherlock’s surprised figure.

John looked at the Ravenclaw. And looked. The cheer of the audience was still resounding as he opened his left hand in front of Sherlock letting the small shimmering golden snitch glide away, met by another wave of applause from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands.

John grinned, the cheers seeming far away as he once again looked into the vulnerability of Sherlock’s nervous smiles. The pink in his cheeks was much more pronounced as the deep blue of John’s eyes met the grey, glinting with specks of green in the soft sunlight.

All the will in the world wouldn't have stopped John even if he wanted it to. He grabbed Sherlock’s blue striped tie in an impulse and pulled him closer, not caring if the whole student body and staff saw them.

The Gryffindor barely had the chance to hear the soft whisper of “John,” from Sherlock’s lips before he pressed their lips together. They kissed, gently and determinedly, reassuring one another that they felt the same as their lips slid together in tandem. John could dimly hear the enthusiastic response around them, catcalls and clapping and suddenly Irene’s booming voice from the speaker echoed loudly through the outdoor stadium. But he paid no attention to them as he got lost in the sweet taste of Sherlock, and the feeling of his warm tongue against his own.

 “And now we see Holmes and Watson finally getting their act together. About time too, I’d say. Captain Watson will finally have Holmes, and I mean this indelicately”

 “MISS ADLER!” Professor Mcgonagall exclaimed, scandalized. John pulled back, and they separated with a soft wet pop, giggling. John looked into Sherlock’s grey eyes full of wonder, surprise and affection and instantly knew this moment was the start of the best thing that had ever happened to him. So he beamed at the scowling Slytherins' surrounding them, grabbed Sherlock’s warm pink face and kissed him again.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! So this was fun. I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable :)  
> Thank you SO much for reading


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